


It Had To Be You

by Hunny_Syn



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Before Charlie, Blood and Violence, F/M, Headcannons and Fantheories, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Little Comfort (What did you expect), Love Triangles, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Porn eventually, Pre-Happy Hotel, Reader Insert, Reader is a Demon, Reader/OC - Freeform, angst and hurt, very fucking crude language, welcome to the sin bin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hunny_Syn/pseuds/Hunny_Syn
Summary: 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝚂𝚃:𝙷𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚜. 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚡 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚆𝚑𝚢? 𝚆𝚑𝚢 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜! 𝚆𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎! 𝚆𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛! 𝚆𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚠𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚗, 𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚞𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎. 𝙰 𝚙𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚜𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔...𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝, 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜? 𝙾𝚑 𝚗𝚘, 𝚗𝚘! 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐- 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎!I̸̗̥̦̱̓T̸̨̆̊͛̓̊̈́̊'̴̖͒̐͗̐̏̕S̴̟̼̼͒̎̈́ ̵̻̾̐̃ͅḞ̴̧͈͎̺͐̓Ę̸̢̛̻̦̗̟̉̐̒̏A̸̻͛̓̌̑͊͘͠͝Ŗ̵̛͖̳̼̞̥̪̥̐̈́̓̾
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Alastor/Reader/Vox, Vox (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 90





	It Had To Be You

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello there! Welcome to the Hazbin Hour as we dive into some sin! A few quickies- and by that I mean notes, ladies and gents and everything in between- before we get started! 
> 
> ONE: Though this is a reader insert, the appearance will go based off of a sexy little number of my own making! A true _Femme Fatale_ , if you catch my drift~ Some images may be posted of her later on, so stay tuned! Either way, feel free to delve into the sin first hand! Really get in there with it... 
> 
> TWO: This is a trial run! This host has no motivation what-so-ever unless someone is kicking her in the pants to 'do the thing'! If you love it, or if you just love it, then send some kudos into the station and drop a line down below! Anything will do~! 
> 
> That's all folks! Enjoy the show and remember-
> 
> Y̶͓͍̳͓͖̫͈̻̌̃̎̈́̀̂̆̚͝Ọ̶̖͉̲̘̣̫̽̄̈U̴͔̗̹͙͎͚̜̘̳͌ͅ'̶͓͚̤̯̪̞̼̕R̶̢̖̬͈̾̐̍̓̄̾ͅE̸͈͝͝ ̸̡̛̺̟̟͚͆͛͐͜͜N̴̥̗̫̲̥̹̥̱̔̏̓̕Ȇ̵͓̻̭̪̇V̸̨͓͕̗̤̬̐̂͊̓͗Ë̵̠̜̰́̈͐̀͆͂̾̚͝͠R̶̖̺̹͉̠̲̯̟̣̋̉̓̀̓͋̂̋͗͠ ̵̮͚͚̰̫̬̫̔̐͑͛F̴̨̤̞̣͎͊̔̂̈́͊͊͘̕͠U̸̟̼͉̘̩͌͛̊̌̒͝͠L̶̘̰̈̇͌L̶̨̠̳̈́̄̊͂̃̄̑Y̵̢͍̮̬̱̮̜̘͌̓͜ ̸̲͔̝̑̓̈̆D̵̤͕̂͐̍̽̅̓̇̈́̕R̶̢̨̨̖̠͎̺̍̂̑͐̅̃͘͝Ȩ̸̛̪̜̮̖̯̟̼͛͋͜S̵̛̰̤̳̣͈̤̔͋́͊̿͌̔̿̈͜͜S̶̛̯̒͒͒͋̔̎E̴͕͔̗̜̫̟̩̗͙͗͗̅̿͐̽D̸̨̖͓̦͎͕̗̾̂͝ ̶̛̰̫̞̻͔͍͔̫͔̀̀͋̆̍̋͛̐̚Ẁ̵̡̽̐̂͂̿͐̔̚Ĩ̸̫͔̯̤̠͌̈́̉̾̄͛̂̈́̄ͅT̶̲̈͑̏͑̃͌̓̕H̷̢̹͉̚O̷͉̒͆̏͛̅̀Ư̴̰̠͖͖̰̮̟̓͌̆̔̋̾͛̒̕T̵̡̟͍͕̪̝̙͎̃̍̏͑͠͝ ̸͕͓̥͇̅̍̅̂̐͗̕̚͝A̵̤͖̹͋͌̒̎̑ ̴̨̗̼̣̹̱̒̓̔̈́̇͠S̴̡̰̭̜͊M̶̧̡̧̖̙͍̜̯̝͎͑̑̚I̴̡͇͈̩̼͍̫̒̑̿͆́͋͝L̶̨̲̼̩̈͑ͅĒ̶̦͍͚͜͠

### ...:::𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁:::...

Hell.

It’s no place for a lady, or so you had been told. But all sinners go to Lucifer's domain for due punishment once their clock runs out. Karma. Fate. God. Didn't matter if you were a devoted and holy predator or an atheistic asshole- they all fall to the pit. Killers, liars, whores, they were all one and the same down here. 

Unless they weren't. 

Down in Hell, there was a pecking order that was always being challenged. Lucifer and his little nest perched at the top of course, followed by the Overlords and Knights of Hell. The rest warred and scrambled for any scraps of power that happened to trickle down from the top. It was all intriguing and yet.. So fucking boring all the same. Demons challenging other demons to a never ending pissing contest. It was crass and tasteless. 

You stared down at the olive on your Martini. The olive stared back at you. Oh, that's right. You forgot that Jack liked to top his drinks with a little more 'flavorful' toppings at Shallow Graves. Jack was the owner and a bit of a silent brute, but he knew how to run a classy joint. And the drinks were nice. (Give or take an extremity or two.) You plucked the skewered baby blue out of your drink and laid it on the napkin on the bar counter. You don't put things in your mouth if you don't know where it's been. (A lesson you took from your Ma even in death.) You tilted the drink and swore you seen a small, scaley hand reach for the eyeball just out of the corner of your vision. You didn't bother and merely sighed at the riff raff that even a place like Shallow Graves could drag in. No fucking manners… But what more could you expect from the worst society had to offer?

You situated yourself on the barstool, raising a clawed hand to flag down Jack for another specialty. One slender, long leg crossed over the other before the entire building shook with a loud bang. Some demons panicked and covered their hollow little heads as they ran amuck in fright. Some did nothing and continued to sip their swill. Some looked at each other with mild amusement or indifference. It wasn't a new thing. The place could come crashing down around them any second, but everyone knew no one could do a damn thing about it. You looked around the bar at the lesser beings and the weak little shits. Not powerful enough to even be considered demons. It was pathetic. The only one who could possibly hold their own in a power battle with the small fries was Jack, the bartender. And even that was only a small possibility depending on who was dropping mortars on the bar’s stoop. If it was the chicken fetus loving snake, then maybe. If it was someone like the TV or Radio Demon, or even that porn loving cake-eater, Valentino, then Jack would end up as just another dark stain on the sidewalk. It was fortunate that the quiet devil never affiliated himself in petty demon affairs, for who else would make your drinks just the way you like? 

The ruckus outside drowned out the ‘talent’ on stage, just for a moment. It was a joyous moment, even if it was short lived. The man on the small stage was ossified out of his gourd. You supposed the words he was slurring out in a tone deaf manner was supposed to be be considered a song. His high tenor made your ears twitch downwards in a futile attempt to block out the horrendous screeching and over half the patrons agreed that it was time for the hook. Demons, both drunk and sober, began to hurl empty bottles, bar nuts and even chairs at the vulture looking man on stage. A bottle hit the mark and burst over his head. A chair, it’s aim tride and true, swept the man off his feet, the broken glass glimmering as it rained down his onyx feathers. The demon swayed drunkenly on his clawed feet, yelling obscenities before he fell off the small stage on his own accord. The room howled with laughter and cheering as the stage was yet again abandoned. 

You scoffed at the jubliance of the barbarians as you spun on your barstool to look ahead. You paused in mid-sip when you noticed a large presence before you. Jack grunted, his two hands twirling in an expert manner to clean out a smudged crystal beer mug. With the filthy rag in his hand, you doubted it would help much, but kept your thoughts of cleanliness to yourself. You rose an arched brow in inquiry, speaking his language of silence. Jack’s milky white gaze went from you to the stage, and you couldn’t help but notice the smallest of twitches around the corners of his mouth. 

Swallowing your drink, you shook your head. Long, flowing white hair bounced around your shoulders as you refused Jack’s request. It was the same request every time. A silent plea spoken only through subtle movements of his narrow slits of white. 

He wanted you on stage. To sing. 

You see, you weren’t just some run of the mill demon. You were _talented_. Your singing talent you had in life followed you to your grave, even if your original voice and appearance did not. Not that it mattered, you had your training and old tricks to fall back on to make any voice shine under the spotlights. This new voice of yours wasn’t bad to begin with, but you still find yourself wondering who was singing in the microphone when you performed. It just wasn’t the ‘you’ you were used to. Even still, the passion of it all remained even down in Hell. The crowd falling silent to hang on to every lilt in your tone, feeding off the lyrics as if their lives depended on it. All eyes on you… Even if just for a few minutes. The power of song was intoxicating. 

It was just too bad that you didn’t do it like you used to. The only times you dusted off your mic was on your occasional visits to the Shallow Grave. In fact, you basked in the way Jack silently begged you to sing. The man never made more sound than a grunt and was as stoic and broody than a widow on Valentines Day. But he bent to you. After the first open mic night, he was your loyal fan. He even spruced up the stage after that night in hopes you would grace the platform once more. On nights you sing, your drinks were on the house. 

The big lug was a softie for you. 

It was the same song and dance- He asks, you refuse, he gives you those rabid puppy dog eyes and you give in because your tab was running a little high. With a tilted smile you eye the bartender, who gave an awkward, wry smile in return as he swung the bar rag over his shoulder. You downed the rest of your drink and hopped off the barstool gracefully, placing the crystal glass on the scratched counter with a small thud and a wink. “How can I say no, when you ask so sweetly?” You said with a flirty tone. The honeyed words rolled off the man with no reaction, but it was fun to toy with him anyways. No one else could dare try it and get away with it. 

You crossed the room, curious, depraved eyes following your every move as your hips swayed deliciously and your heels clicked against the filthy floorboards. Let them watch. Drink their fill. You flourished under their attention though they themselves meant nothing to you. An Overlord could crush them all in the middle of your ballad and you would continue to sing and take your well deserved bow at the end. In life, your fans were everything. In death… There was no point to it all. Hell didn’t abide by mortal society rules, so fame without power was meaningless and suicidal. 

As you approach the stage, cat calls and cheers erupted from the crowd, urging you forward with your head held high and a smile on your painted lips. Climbing the stage with grace and sophistication you bent down to pick up the abandoned microphone with the utmost care. You dusted off the glimmering fragments of shattered glass, and tapped the metal mesh to test that the poor little dear was jake. The tapping resounded throughout the bar, gaining the remaining lingering eyes trained solely on you. You gave a dazzling, catty smile and looked to the demon behind the sound booth. You rose a hand and snapped your fingers. “Give me a little beat, Ravi.” A reptilian man with large headphones nodded on cue and shuffled behind the booth right before a jazzy tune flowed from the surround sound speakers. 

The room shook once again from the kerfuffle raging outside, but the sound of mayhem never breached the song as your voice began to travel and drown out any invading noise. Everyone was silent...for once. The powerful lyrics of the song stunning their brains as it perforated their ear drums. You only sung the best of the best, after all. Songs that meant something, or that sounded clever or provocative. And you simply could not resist the sound of a saxophone. Most songs you sing have that certain swing. Something the people could tap their feet to and get in a tizzy about. 

The patrons of Shallow Graves were not the dancing types. However, you could see a few tap their claws on tune with the beat or catch their heads swaying and nodding as they lost themselves to your music. You eyed Jack, his duties abandoned as he leaned forward on the counter- completely entranced with a dazed look on his face. 

The song couldn’t last forever and, like all good things that was worth a shit, it had to end. When you sung the last verse and the last chord played, the room burst into applause, whistles, cheers of adoration and the occasional lewd comment that overpowered the other gleeful guests. You placed the mic back on it’s stand where it belonged, and took a flourishing bow. The smile you wore was genuine, missing the stage terribly as you slowly left it behind you as you made your way back to the bar. Jack was waiting for you at your seat, his face a mixture of emotions. Which was saying something since you were pretty sure the man was made of stone. You sighed happily and reclaimed your seat, taking advantage of the fresh giggle water before you. You took a drink to soothe your vocal cords, mentally harassing yourself for not sticking to your previous vocal training and exercises. When was the last time you even practiced before jumping on stage? You couldn’t recall. 

Swallowing the chilled beverage, you set your glass down with a clink and finally paid Jack some attention. “Well? What’s with you? The song not to your liking, ol’ Jackie dear?” You said in a sing-songy voice, chuckling dryly at the end. He loved the song. You seen it on his face while you were singing your heart out on stage. So what had crawled up his hole so quickly to make his face scrunched like that? 

“Oh, bar keep! Another round over here, please~” The order was followed by soft, rapid tapping on the bar. 

You saw it then. Jack’s muscles went tense as he turned away from you to pour the drink. Curious, you turned to the bar flower beside you and was shocked to see who had claimed the seat next to you. 

Glowing, crimson eyes shifted in your direction, as if he could feel your curious gaze on him from the start. The man squared his shoulders and spun around on his stool to fully face you. He loomed over you, even when sitting and his whole presence seemed to glow and was ...faintly distorted in an odd way. It wasn’t his scalera, glowing vermillion eyes or intimidating presence that got to you, however. 

It was his toothy smile… 

“Why hello there!” His voice, now that you were paying attention, sounded nostalgically familiar. Like a voice being broadcasted through an old time radio. He was energetic and joyful, his eyes lighting like a flame as he took in your form. He thrust his hand out to you, barely leaving room for you to turn to shake it. “Your performance was absolutely stunning, my dear! I am just upset to have missed near the entirety of it,” he chirped, an accent seeping through his lines that brought you home back on Earth. 

You stared down at his hand cautiously for a moment, an awkward silence lingering. Though you were sure you were the only one bothered by it. Slowly, you spun on your barstool to face this demon and firmly took his hand to shake. “Thank you,” you mumbled warily. He shook your hand with a force that nearly dislocated your shoulder as his grin widened, this time reaching his eyes. 

“Wonderful! I am-”

“I know who you are… Alastor,” You interjected coolly, a smile of your own playing on your lapis lips. You retracted your arm, subtly rolling your shoulders to shake the growing soreness from them. “The Radio Demon. Any demon worth their salt knows who you are.” 

The smile never left his face, but you could see his eyes darken at your words. He had a reputation, and he knew that. Everyone knew what carnage he could bring with that sadistic smile of his. What you didn’t know was why he was in this bar. Talking to you. He was a capricious man, whose whimsy was as twisted and dark as his smile and as checkered as his past. He didn’t just waltz into bars and start communing with the local sinners. 

“My, my. My reputation precedes me! Yet a greeting without an introduction is quite rude~” He grasped the staff at his side, or rather, it was a microphone of peculiar design. You could have sworn that the eye blinked, but dismissed it as Alastor continued. “As you know, I am Alastor! You may know me, but I have yet to know you. And with a voice like that, I am very curious to know you! What may I call you, my choice bit of calico?” He leaned his elbow on the counter, dismissing and ignoring the drink that Jack had laid in front of him moments ago. 

“They call me Kitty. You may call me that as well,” you said, a nervous smile on your lips as you crossed one leg over the other. He was so polite. How could a mass murdering psycho be so polite? His down home charm and inviting words made you comfortable in a way that made you slightly uncomfortable. This man was dangerous with a capital D and every instinct in your gut was screaming at you to put some miles between you and him. But… at the same time… he made you curious in a way that made leaving impossible. Suppose curiosity would be an end to this cat. 

You mustered your courage and spoke your mind, taking a sip from your glass as to disguise your anxiety. “Now that the boring introductions are out of the way, what brings you to this classy little dive?” Your eyes darted around the bar, and you took notice how the immediate vicinity around the both of you was void of demons. They feared him that much. You couldn’t tell if you were brave or stupid to linger at his side. 

“Why, that would be you, my dear!” He spoke as if it was common knowledge, as if his words made perfect sense. Your expression must have been rankled because Alastor laughed and took hold of both of your hands in his. “I was just having a bit of a stroll outside and heard this lovely voice echoing into the night. I followed it here, in this lovely little bar, and what did I find? You! You have a bewitching singing voice, darling! Has anyone ever told you that you could be a star with that voice? Why you would absolutely slay on radio!” His voice quivered at the word ‘slay’ but you didn’t take much notice to that. You were more intrigued with the genuine compliments as he all but stroked your ego. 

You smiled at him, the same dazzling smile you used on stage to charm the audience, as you flipped back a stray moonlit lock. “Why yes! I have! In fact, I used to be a singer in a former life.” Your voice was teeming with joy at the recollection of your glory days as a human. It wasn’t long before the reality of Hell came at you like the speed of a steam engine. “I don’t sing much anymore,” you added, your voice falling as well as your smile. 

“That is a complete TRAVESTY!” Alastor jumped to his feet, his voice rising at his dramatic outrage. It startled you, and you began to flinch away right before he grabbed your hand to pull you to your feet with him. “A travesty, I tell ya! With a voice like yours, you could rule Hell! These numb buckets of slugs could use a dame like you to light a fire in their soul! That’s what Hell lacks- Entertainment! And you my dear,” Alastor’s voice dropped to a low whisper as he released your hands to put a long, slender finger under your chin. He commanded your gaze to his as he smiled his toothy grin, his eyes narrow and sincere. “Are one hell of an entertainer.” 

A compliment. A genuine compliment… FROM THE RADIO DEMON! The man of pure entertainment himself was paying his respects to your voice. You should have been more cautious to his honeyed words, but how long had it been since someone in the entertainment business gave you any respect? Never. Down in Hell, it was never. Because entertainment down here was carnal and chaotic. The times were different down here and the classics were dead and done. You were just a has-been from the past with no actual future in show business. You accepted that, though it was a damn near hard, bitter pill to swallow. 

And yet… 

Your face grew rosy under Alastor’s gaze, his smile widening ever so slightly as you melted under his charm. His words made you so happy you could almost cry. Almost, but you weren’t going to give this cad THAT much satisfaction! You chuckled meekly, turning your face away from his gaze and breaking free from his hands. “Surely you don’t mean that. You wouldn’t lie to this run down girl, down on her luck, would you?”

“Oh ho, no of course not! I wouldn’t lie on a matter such as this! Especially not to a professional voice like you.” 

Your eyes darted back to him, an inquisitive gaze lingering on his cocky expression. “You knew I was a professional?” 

The demon raised his pinstriped arms in excitement, “Of course I did! I haven’t heard a voice like that since, well since I was a young lad back behind the wire in the roaring 20’s! Ah, those were the good old days~” Alastor shook his head, his bi-colored hair framing his face as he became lost in a fond memory. There was a short silence, making you uncomfortable as you looked away to give him a moment to come back to the present. It didn’t take him long, and you were well aware when he was once again present because his energy spiked yet again. “Any who! I’ll cut right to the chase, darlin’! Call me nostalgic, but I think we should bring the former glory of radio to Hell. And I think you are the little lady to help me do it!” 

Alastor leaned down, his face inches from yours and plastered with pure enthusiasm and excitement. You leaned away, uncomfortable by his close proximity and the suddenness of his ludicrous offer. But ...was it truly ludicrous? He was the Radio Demon and he held immense power over Hell already. You were sure this was probably just some scheme to gain some upper hand, probably over the T.V Demon. But, did you really even care about all that? So what if he was using you! You would be working side by side with one of the most powerful, influential demons in all of Hell! He was asking you to do what you already love. Perhaps this was the chance you had been waiting for… 

You placed a hesitant hand on the man’s chest just below his starched bow tie and slowly pushed him out of your personal bubble. Why did he always have to be so damn close to you? Eyeing him with slight contempt, a light brow rose with considerable curiosity. “Okay. I ain’t saying I don’t like your plan, sugar, but tell me why I should? You’ll just cut me loose once you get what you want, won’t you?” You retracted your hand from him, shifting your weight as you awaited his answer. 

He answered almost immediately. “Tsk tsk. You wound me, my dear! And you also misunderstand. I’m not talking about some two-bit lackey, I want you as a business partner! Picture this~!” Alastor disappeared with a poof, making your amber slitted eyes grow wide with curiosity. You weren’t sure where he wandered off to until you felt a long, slender arm snake around your shoulders. With a firm grasp, he pulled you to his side in one motion with strength you never would have guessed he possessed. He looked so slender, where was he hiding muscles?! You were cheek to cheek with the Radio Demon as he pointed to the void with his odd microphone. “You and me! Side by side, entertaining the masses and bringing a spark back into Hell by transmitting our carnage and class through their very own speakers! It will be the show of a lifetime!” 

You had to admit, he threw a good pitch. You were most certainly convinced. His ideas mirrored your own and you knew Alastor was good for making dreams (or nightmares) become the reality. You weren’t exactly sure what being a business partner to an Overlord entailed, but could it be any worse than where you were now? It had the potential to be better, however. Much, much better. And if you were being painfully honest, the man had a charm that was hard to ignore. Even if you happened to say no now, you were almost certain he could charm a ‘yes’ out of you. Eventually. Or maybe force one out of you… 

So may as well skip the potential for torture and harassment and just give the man what he wanted. 

With a vision of success dancing around in your head, you smiled and looked up at the man who still had his arm around you. He gleamed down at you until you nodded your head enthusiastically. “Okay, Alastor! Partners it is!” You turned away from him long enough to extend a hand in his direction. The smile turned a tad arrogant as he moved to accept your hand in his. Right as your fingertips touched, you remembered something and pulled away at the last possible second. You shielded your hand from him, a brow of concern raised and you had to admit… The look of mild surprise on his face was a little entertaining. “Wait! This isn’t some contract or one of your demon deals. This is a business contract, that is all. I lend you my voice and I am considered your equal. Force me to do anything I don’t like, and the deal is off. Capiche?” 

The demon’s form shook mildly from an amused chuckle, his hand reaching out with incredible speed to snatch yours. “Of course~ I’d never make a lady do anything she didn’t want to do,” he murmured in a silky tone. The line sent shivers down your spine, but you dared not to shudder. 

“Then it’s a deal,” you said, making your voice as stern as you possibly could. 

Alastor shook your hand with vigor, once again almost dislocating something. “Wonderful! I am looking forward to working with you very closely, darlin’! We will get started tomorrow, but for tonight-” Alastor freed your hand, only to grab you by your waist and hoist you into the air as if you were no heavier than a feather. Honestly… how did he have the strength to lift anything heavier than a radio? Taken by surprise, you clutched onto his forearms, your claws digging into his skin. He didn’t seem phased as he spun you around with glee. You struggled for a brief moment before he set you back on your feet, your heels connecting with the wonderful floorboards with a small click. “We celebrate! I know just the place!” 

There was no stopping Alastor once he had a thought in his head. This was the very first rule you learned. He was an unstoppable force of nature and you could do nothing but bend to his odd flow. Even as he all but dragged you out of Shallow Graves by your hand. His heels clacked against the floorboards, sounding vaguely like hooves on wood as he made to leave the bar at a brisk pace. You struggled in his grasp. It wasn’t like you were going anywhere. You intended to follow him without the use of a leash. 

You looked back to see Jack, mild concern and surprise etched on his stony face. You managed to shoot him a small smile and wave with your free hand to reassure him before you were towed out of the front entrance for good. After all, you were making the right decision. 

Right…?

**Author's Note:**

> How many little references and easter eggs can you find, little darlings~?
> 
> [Wonderland-Caravan Palace](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCXsRoyFRQE) Song inspiration for Chapter 1.
> 
> ::UPDATE::  
> On a Hard Hiatus from this Fic. No chapters are currently in the works or being planned at this time.  
> 1/21/2021 


End file.
